The Supreme State Council convened once in February; now it is September, and six months have passed without a meeting. At that February session, we discussed summoning all our energy, striving to move forward with vigor, achieving more with less effort and at lower cost—achieving great things swiftly and efficiently. We spoke of having “great hope,” though I wonder if everyone still remembers? I emphasized that this was not merely “some hope” or even “a little hope,” but rather “great hope.” We also talked about presenting ourselves among the people as ordinary working people. For those of us here, and for many within the Communist Party, realizing this will require considerable effort. In contrast to the Kuomintang, who appeared before the masses with an aristocratic air and a lordly demeanor, we should appear as humble laborers among the people.

At that time, we uttered a few harsh words, criticizing “excessive ambition for quick success, impatience for immediate results, contempt for the past, and blind faith in the future.” If you call these flaws, while I see them as virtues, isn’t that simply playing opposite roles? Some found those four criticisms quite agreeable: “The Communist Party is overly ambitious and eager for quick gains, despises the past, and clings to fanciful notions about the future—how absurd!” I replied that precisely because they are not absurd, but entirely justified, they deserve serious consideration. Why do certain individuals support such criticism? It stems from either a superficial understanding—or outright disregard—for the three pillars of Marxist thought: dialectical and historical materialism, Marxist political economy, and the theory of proletarian class struggle and the dictatorship of the proletariat. Lacking a proper analytical framework, they fail to distinguish between different classes. For example, there is bourgeois ambition for quick success and proletarian ambition for quick success; both exist. Similarly, there is bourgeois impatience for immediate results and proletarian impatience for immediate results. As the ancient saying goes, “Those who pursue profit at all costs are followers of the bandit Zhi”; today, this likely describes a segment of the bourgeoisie. Those who relentlessly chase profit are disciples of the capitalist class. We, however, embody a different kind of urgency. As for dismissing the past and placing blind faith in the future, again, class differences come into play: the bourgeoisie reveres the past while rejecting the future—their antiques are treasures, whereas communism and socialism are mere nonsense. Isn’t that precisely blind faith in the past coupled with contempt for the future?

Over the past six months, profound changes have taken place. I believe each of you present has undergone transformation, and so too has my own thinking. Many developments were entirely unforeseen. Although we spoke of “great hope” last February, how does that hope now compare with today’s reality? It seems somewhat behind the times.

Domestically, as everyone knows, the balance of class forces has shifted dramatically. Hundreds of millions of workers and peasants now feel invigorated and enthusiastic about the Great Leap Forward. This is the direct result of the Rectification Campaign against Rightists. Prior to the campaign, many cadres exhibited two main tendencies: excessive officialdom and insufficient political awareness. Wasn’t one of the five evils targeted by the campaign precisely “officialdom”? While some cadres remained resistant to change after the Rectification Campaign, the majority began to adopt the posture of ordinary laborers, integrating closely with workers and peasants. People clearly sense a marked difference from the Kuomintang era. Back then, certain cadres struck workers as arrogant and out of touch, indistinguishable from the old regime and still oppressing them. Consequently, some workers lacked enthusiasm for socialist and communist ideals, focusing instead on acquiring the “five big items”—watches, bicycles, fountain pens, radios, and sewing machines—a form of purely personal aspiration. During that period, most people remained politically unaware; only a small fraction were truly active, while the vast majority lagged behind. Following the Party’s critique of the “three winds and five evils,” many cadres engaged in self-criticism, acknowledging that their pursuit of the “five big items” served individual interests rather than the collective good. This introspection spurred greater initiative. The same dynamic unfolded among farmers. Cooperative leaders and county-, district-, and township-level officials worked side by side with villagers, igniting a wave of enthusiasm. Even in the bitter winter, they undertook irrigation projects, fully aware that their efforts benefited themselves, their collectives, and the nation as a whole. As a result, grain production this year is expected to increase by approximately ×× billion jin, potentially rising from last year’s 370 billion jin to ×× billion jin. Cotton output may reach ×× million dan, surpassing last year’s 33 million dan. Tobacco yields could soar by three to four times. Only oilseed production shows limited growth, falling short of expectations. Fiber crops, previously neglected, are now receiving due attention. Steel production could double. At the First Plenary Session of the Eighth National Congress of the CPC in 1956, the Premier proposed a target of 10.5 to 12 million tons of steel under the Second Five-Year Plan. Given current progress, exceeding 10.5 million tons appears feasible, with the possibility of reaching 12 million tons. The Forty Articles on Agricultural Development were originally slated for completion over twelve years, yet significant milestones have already been achieved in 1956, 1957, and 1958. These remain preliminary estimates, subject to verification by actual results. Should grain production reach ×× billion jin this year and double again next year, total output could approach ×× billion jin. While such a rapid increase might pose logistical challenges—finding uses beyond human consumption and animal feed—it remains plausible that next year’s yield could exceed ×× billion jin, and steel output could surpass ×× million tons. Overall, by next year we should essentially catch up with Britain in most areas, except shipbuilding, automobiles, and electricity. By then, we aim to outpace Britain across the board. Two years into a fifteen-year plan, nearly half the objectives have been accomplished. Who could have anticipated this? It is the fruit of the people’s boundless drive.

The bourgeoisie and democratic parties have also undergone significant transformations and continue to evolve. The question of adopting the stance of an ordinary worker has proven particularly challenging within the democratic ranks, requiring a gradual, deliberate approach rather than hasty action. Nevertheless, circumstances compel change. Society operates on the principle of the majority oppressing the minority; the dominant group shapes the social climate, placing pressure on those in a weaker position. To counter this dynamic, I have long advocated for fostering opposing forces—without opposition, nothing can be achieved. What forms of opposition exist? Within our democratic camp, numerous factions serve as counterweights. Additionally, elements outside our ranks—landlords, rich peasants, counter-revolutionaries, and rightists—also constitute opposing forces. Workers and peasants exert pressure on us, urging us to govern effectively; otherwise, they threaten to rectify our shortcomings. For instance, in the first half of 1955, widespread public dissatisfaction arose regarding our policies. Amidst discussions of state procurement and grain distribution, some argued that no crisis existed, while others insisted there was indeed a crisis. One cause was grain shortages, another was the disruptive influence of affluent middle peasants. Many of these individuals were Party members holding positions at the county, district, or township level. They complained about excessive state control over grain purchases and sales, claiming that surplus grain was being unfairly confiscated. Their grievances stirred other farmers, leading even those with sufficient supplies to claim scarcity and engage in various forms of protest. Faced with this mounting pressure, the decision to initiate collectivization gained momentum. We dispelled persistent misconceptions—that collectivization would fail in liberated areas, that cooperatives lacked accounting systems, that it was suitable only on flat land but not in mountainous regions, or that it applied only to Han Chinese but not to ethnic minorities—and within a matter of months, the collectivization movement gained traction. This, in turn, influenced the industrial and commercial sectors, prompting widespread calls for public-private partnerships. By 1956, however, some began to doubt the viability of the “fast, much, good, cheap” approach. Simultaneously, the aftermath of Stalin’s death and the Hungarian uprising intensified anti-communist and anti-Soviet sentiment worldwide, fueling right-wing activities domestically. It was only through the Rectification Campaign against Rightists that we managed to reverse these trends. Today, we find ourselves in a more favorable position: democratic parties, scientists, engineers, and even the bourgeoisie—indeed, the vast majority—are either shifting their stance or moving toward doing so. A small minority remains unchanged, divided along left, center, and right lines. Class divisions persist. Claims that class antagonism has vanished are misguided. Much like addiction to opium, which is difficult to break, I find it implausible that bourgeois and feudal ideologies could be easily eradicated. Such transformations must occur gradually, without being driven solely by external pressures, but grounded in concrete realities. The successful construction of the Yangtze River Bridge, for example, convinced many skeptics; prior to its completion, they doubted its feasibility. Once the bridge stood, however, their doubts dissipated. Similarly, producing 1.1 million tons of steel this year, followed by ×× million tons next year, and continuing with further increases over the subsequent two years, alongside a surge in grain production from 370 billion jin to ×× billion jin—these are all possibilities worth pursuing. But what might the consequences be? Could daily exhaustion lead to mass fatalities, drastic weight loss, or widespread illness? Indeed, such outcomes are conceivable, with casualties ranging from deaths to emaciation and disease. Yet these represent isolated cases; for the majority, the opposite holds true: they neither perish nor waste away, but rather gain weight and enjoy robust health. In particular, the Four Pests Campaign has significantly reduced disease incidence. Farmers’ work is disciplined and highly organized, akin to military discipline. Public canteens save time by eliminating the need for commuting, conserve food and fuel, reduce expenses, and free up substantial amounts of time. This is the experience of ×× County. Meanwhile, scientific and technological advancements have made remarkable progress. In academic circles, younger scholars often challenge their elders: students question teachers, lecturers challenge associate professors, and research assistants strive to surpass their supervisors. Researchers endeavor to outdo institute directors. Take, for instance, a pharmaceutical research institute in Shanghai headed by Director Zhao Chengxia, who possesses the unique ability to extract a hypertension medication from a native Chinese plant. However, he refuses to share this knowledge or take credit for it. His young colleagues, frustrated by his reticence, took matters into their own hands and, after countless nights of arduous experimentation, succeeded in isolating the active compound. Similar instances are not uncommon; several institutes have witnessed comparable breakthroughs. University professors sometimes lag behind their students in innovation, spending years drafting lecture notes, textbooks, and curricula only to find that students, through collaborative effort, achieve far more in a matter of days. I recall a literature class at a teachers’ college tasked with compiling a history of world literature. Twenty-six students labored for four days, reading 290 classic works from China and abroad, ultimately producing a comprehensive outline of literary history. This process exemplifies the pressure exerted by the younger generation upon their elders, compelling the latter to innovate. Of course, not all young people are exemplary; some indulge in idleness, vagrancy, or theft. Nonetheless, as the adage goes, “He who piles up firewood eventually takes the lead.” We must acknowledge this truth.

Internationally, our traditional stance has always been optimistic, encapsulated in the phrase “the East wind prevails over the West wind.”

The United States has now adopted a “total containment” strategy, explicitly including Kinmen, Matsu, Dadan Island, Erdan Island, and Dongding Island within its sphere of influence. From my perspective, this arrangement suits them well. They have placed themselves under our noose, their necks dangling beneath the iron yoke of the Chinese people. Taiwan, too, constitutes a noose, albeit at a greater distance. By incorporating Kinmen into this framework, they bring their strategic focus closer to us. Should I ever deliver a decisive blow, they would be unable to escape, ensnared as they are by a single rope.

I now offer several perspectives and observations for your consideration, not as definitive decisions or legal mandates. Legal stipulations stifle creativity, whereas viewpoints remain alive and open to exploration. Let us apply these insights to analyze the international situation.

First, let us examine the relative fears of the two sides. I believe both the United States and ourselves harbor apprehensions about war. The crucial question, however, is which party harbors greater fear. This is a viewpoint, a lens through which to view the evolving landscape. Over the coming year, two years, three years, or even longer, we can observe whether the West remains more fearful of the East, or if we in the East have grown increasingly apprehensive about the West. In my assessment, Dulles and his Western counterparts are far more anxious about our potential response than we are about theirs. Why is this the case? Primarily due to disparities in power and popular sentiment. Popular support equates to strength; we command a larger base of backing, while they rely on a dwindling cohort. Among communism, nationalism, and imperialism, communism and nationalism are inherently aligned. Nationalist movements have gained considerable ground, spanning Asia, Africa, and Latin America. Consequently, many rulers in these regions remain pro-Western—Thailand, Pakistan, Japan, Turkey, Iran—yet within their respective populations, a significant portion leans toward the East, perhaps even constituting a majority. Those most fervently advocating for war are typically monopolistic capitalists or their closest allies. For example, several Nordic nations, governed by bourgeois regimes, actively oppose military conflict. Such is the nature of the power dynamic. The truth lies in the hands of the majority, not in Dulles’s grasp. Their hearts are fragile; ours are steadfast. We draw strength from the people, while they prop up reactionary regimes. Dulles, for his part, singles out figures like Chiang Kai-shek, Syngman Rhee, and Ngo Dinh Diem, offering them unwavering support. Thus, while both sides share a mutual fear, their apprehension is markedly greater on our side, rendering war unlikely.

Second, let us consider the military alliances formed by U.S. imperialism: NATO, the Baghdad Pact, and the Manila Pact. What is their true character? We maintain that they are aggressive in nature. This assertion is incontrovertible. However, in which direction are they currently directed? Are they aimed at undermining socialism, or at targeting nationalism? In my view, their primary focus lies on weakening nationalist movements—in Egypt, Lebanon, and other vulnerable states in the Middle East. Socialist countries, unless they face catastrophic failures like Hungary, Poland, Czechoslovakia, or East Germany, or unless the Soviet Union itself experiences severe turmoil, remain relatively stable and resilient. Under such circumstances, they might launch an attack. But why wait until a regime collapses? Since our targets are not yet ripe, they are content to target more accessible fronts—Indonesia, India, Burma, Ceylon—seeking to overthrow Nasser, topple Iraq, and subjugate Algeria, among others.

Latin America, meanwhile, has witnessed significant progress. Vice President Nixon visited eight countries where he was met with spittle and stones hurled at him during official engagements. Such acts of disrespect—depriving a political representative of dignity and courtesy—effectively rendered him persona non grata. He was branded an adversary, and thus subjected to verbal and physical abuse. Therefore, we should not regard these three military blocs as uniformly menacing; a nuanced analysis reveals their inherently aggressive yet unstable nature.

Third, let us address the issue of tension. Daily, we advocate for de-escalation, and when tensions ease, it benefits people worldwide. Does this imply that all tensions are inherently harmful? Not necessarily. Tensions, while undeniably detrimental, can also serve a constructive purpose by mobilizing dormant forces and inspiring moderate elements to take action. Consider the threat of nuclear war: just imagine the barrage of artillery fire exchanged between Kinmen and Matsu—such scenes would have been unimaginable in a world devoid of global unrest and pervasive anxiety. It is precisely because people fear war and the unpredictable actions of the United States that tensions arise. Across the globe, aside from South Korea, no other nation openly supports U.S. aggression. Perhaps the Philippines could be added to that list, designated as a “supporting ally.” Take, for instance, the Iraqi Revolution—isn’t it, in essence, a manifestation of heightened tension? These tensions are not of our making; they stem directly from imperialist ambitions. Yet, paradoxically, they ultimately undermine the very interests of imperialist powers. Lenin once observed that war stirs the human spirit, intensifying emotions and creating a sense of urgency. Though we are fortunate to live in peace, even the latent tensions inherent in armed conflicts can galvanize positive energies and prompt reflection among marginalized groups.

Fourth, the issue of troop withdrawal from the Middle East. British and American invading forces must withdraw. However, imperialist powers are attempting to cling to their footholds, arguing that such a presence serves an educational purpose: by confronting an aggressor, people develop a clearer sense of opposition and resistance. When the aggressor himself steps forward as the focal point of resistance and refuses to leave, it inadvertently mobilizes global opposition to U.S. aggression. Hence, despite their prolonged stay, the net impact on local populations may not be entirely negative, as citizens are continually urged to demand their departure: “Why don’t you leave?”

Fifth, should General de Gaulle assume power, or should he refrain? The French Communist Party and the French people should resolutely oppose his ascension, voting against his constitutional proposals while simultaneously preparing for the eventuality that he succeeds. De Gaulle’s rise to power would undoubtedly impose constraints on France and its populace. Nevertheless, it also carries certain advantages: externally, his penchant for challenging Anglo-American dominance proves beneficial. Internally, he serves as an indispensable educator for the French proletariat, much like Chiang Kai-shek played a pivotal role in shaping the consciousness of 600 million Chinese citizens. Without such a guiding figure, mere ideological indoctrination would fall short. De Gaulle still commands considerable prestige; even if defeated, he would retain a loyal following, as people continue to hold him in high regard. Allowing him to take office, barring exceptional circumstances, would mean enduring his rule for five, six, seven, eight, or ten years—after which he would inevitably step down. Once removed, there would be no second de Gaulle. The toxic legacy he represents must be confronted and dismantled; only then can society move forward.

Sixth, the embargo. The prohibition of trade with us. How does this measure affect us? Is it preferable for capitalist nations to engage in extensive commerce with us, or to limit their interactions? Currently, trade is minimal. In my view, the embargo confers significant advantages upon us. We do not perceive it as a disadvantage. On the contrary, it greatly facilitates our access to essential goods—food, clothing, housing, transportation—and bolsters our industrial capacity, particularly in steelmaking and ironworking. With the imposition of an embargo, we are compelled to rely on our own resources. Throughout history, I have expressed gratitude to He Yingqin. In 1937, when the Red Army was reorganized into the Eighth Route Army of the National Revolutionary Army, we received a monthly stipend of 400,000 yuan in fiat currency. Thanks to his issuance of this currency, we became dependent on it. However, the anti-communist offensive in 1940 severed this lifeline. From that point onward, we had no choice but to fend for ourselves. What strategies did we devise? We issued a decree declaring the fiat currency invalid and instructing units to determine their own means of sustenance. Subsequently, each base launched a production campaign, generating value far exceeding the original 400,000 yuan—potentially reaching tens or even hundreds of millions. From then on, we relied entirely on our own efforts. Today, who serves as our equivalent of He Yingqin? None other than Dulles, albeit under a different name. Now that they have imposed an embargo, we have responded by launching the Great Leap Forward, breaking free from dependency, dispelling outdated beliefs, and forging ahead.

Seventh, the question of recognition. Is it more advantageous to be recognized, or to remain unrecognized? In my view, this parallels the situation with the embargo: for imperialist nations, refusing to recognize us actually confers certain benefits. Currently, roughly forty countries maintain non-recognition policies, primarily due to U.S. pressure. France, for example, has expressed interest in establishing diplomatic relations but hesitates due to American opposition. Other nations in Central and South America, Asia, Africa, Europe, as well as Canada, likewise refrain from recognizing us for similar reasons. To date, only nineteen capitalist countries have formally acknowledged us, joined by eleven socialist nations and Yugoslavia, bringing the total to thirty-one. This meager number underscores the challenges we face. Producing three hundred million tons of steel—ideally seven hundred million tons—and cultivating thirty-five billion jin of grain will require decades of sustained effort. Estimates suggest around ×× years. Claims of extraordinary industrial or scientific achievements are often exaggerated; we should avoid falling prey to such illusions. The goal of catching up with Britain within fifteen years is, in essence, a mirage. We have already made substantial progress in just two years. This figure represents a national aggregate; when calculated per capita, the disparity becomes glaring. Britain has a population of fifty million, with 22 million tons of steel, whereas we boast seven hundred million inhabitants. Achieving parity in steel production alone would necessitate three hundred million tons—an amount far exceeding the seven hundred million tons we have already mentioned. Even doubling that target would still leave a considerable gap, potentially extending the timeline to fifteen years or beyond. The world often presents such peculiarities: either nothing happens, or everything unfolds simultaneously. Do you find this pattern surprising? Consider our twenty-two-year war, for instance. For twenty-one years, we experienced nothing but setbacks, until a sudden breakthrough occurred in 1949, culminating in nationwide victory. The same applies to grain production: after eight years of relentless effort, progress remained painfully slow. In 1949, grain output stood at 210 billion jin; last year, it reached 370 billion jin. Despite eight years of cultivation, our cumulative increase amounted to only 160 billion jin. This year, however, we anticipate a substantial leap, potentially adding ×× billion jin to the total. The lack of tangible progress over such an extended period stems from entrenched institutional barriers and the absence of economic reforms. Early attempts at agricultural cooperation failed to gain traction due to the lack of the Rectification Campaign against Rightists. Similarly, steel production stagnated for decades, with Chiang Kai-shek managing to produce only forty thousand tons—a legacy inherited from Zhang Zhidong. Ultimately, two critical factors dominate: grain and steel. Steel enables the manufacture of machinery—coal-mining equipment, mining tools, power generators, oil refineries, trains, ships, airplanes, chemical processing machines, construction gear, and agricultural implements. In essence, grain fuels production, while steel empowers it. Together, they form the “Three Great Generals,” whose alignment heralds prospects of success. Two “advance guards”—railways and electricity—further reinforce this trajectory. Returning to the matter of non-recognition, I contend that remaining unrecognized is not necessarily detrimental. On the contrary, it may afford us additional opportunities to expand our steel output to six or seven hundred million tons, thereby increasing the likelihood of eventual recognition. Alternatively, we might choose to remain unrecognized indefinitely, as there is little harm in doing so.

Finally, let us prepare for a potential war of aggression. Earlier, we noted that both sides harbor fears of conflict, yet such fears have yet to materialize. Nonetheless, it is prudent to build in a margin of safety, given the reckless behavior of monopolistic capitalists worldwide. This imperative must be thoroughly communicated to all cadres. First, we must firmly oppose any prospect of war, a stance shared by the Soviet Union. Should war become inevitable, it will be initiated by others, leaving us with no choice but to respond. Second, while we should not succumb to panic, we must be prepared to fight if necessary. At present, our arsenal consists solely of hand grenades and potatoes. Nuclear and hydrogen bomb warfare, of course, would be catastrophic, resulting in mass casualties. Therefore, we strongly oppose such scenarios. However, the decision to resort to nuclear weapons rests squarely with imperialist powers. Consequently, we must remain vigilant and ready to act at a moment’s notice. Even if half the population were to perish, this would not spell doom. Such an extreme scenario defies historical precedent. I have debated this issue with Nehru, who argued that once a government is obliterated by atomic bombs, no legitimate authority remains to negotiate peace. I countered that new governments invariably emerge, capable of resuming diplomatic dialogue. The specter of such apocalyptic outcomes keeps us awake at night. Ultimately, the crux of the matter lies not in the sheer number of casualties, nor in the fear of war itself, but in the decision to initiate hostilities. Whether driven by fear or indifference, the choice remains ours. Persistent fear among cadres and the general populace, however, poses grave risks. In my view, we should steel ourselves for combat and commit to rebuilding afterward. Accordingly, we are now organizing militia units. Every people’s commune is forming militias, transforming the entire population into soldiers. Initially, we will distribute several million firearms—rifles, machine guns, hand grenades, light mortars, and small mortars—and equip each province with facilities for manufacturing light weapons. People’s communes are establishing military departments and conducting regular drills. Among those present today are intellectuals who embody both cultural refinement and martial prowess.

These eight perspectives, offered as viewpoints, are intended to guide your examination of the international landscape.